


Deux amants partagent une cigarette

by Regarklipop



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: 1920s New York City, Joe and Nicky wear make-up, M/M, and model for an artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regarklipop/pseuds/Regarklipop
Summary: It's 1923. Nicky and Yusuf are enjoying a night out in a gay bar in New York City when they are approached by an artist to model for him. One Hundred years later, Nile sees the painting in a small museum.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 112





	Deux amants partagent une cigarette

They come over on a ship, helplessly impressed at how short the crossing is compared to the last time they had made the decision to come to the Americas. What would they have told their younger selves? In a few short decades, a ship will be designed that can cross the entire Atlantic in less than a week, fired by a brand new replacement for coal.

The ship docks, releasing it's passengers down the gangplank. As soon as Nicolò and Joseph clear the crowd, they find a taxicab to take them to the boarding house in Greenwich Village that Andromache had recommended. They try not to gawk like tourists during the trip, but the town is filled to the brim with people, motor cars, trolleys, and buildings that rise higher than any they've seen. The bustle is not too different from Paris, but an entirely different soul breathes beneath this city's concrete skin.

Joe and Nicky arrive at their destination, thankfully not victims to overinflated taxi fares for being visitors. They speak with the woman who runs the boarding house, and she settles them into their little room quickly. They unpack and hang up clothing, distracted by a knock on the door as two of their neighbours in the next room over introduce themselves. It takes Joe and Nicky three minutes of talking to the young men to hear about three jazz clubs in the area that serve liquor and cater to 'their type', with further recommendations up in Harlem.

With their evening plans decided, clothing for a night out must be selected. Their outfits won’t quite fit the American aesthetic, but they are fashionable in Paris, and in six months the styles will be all the rage here anyway. 

They're still in their pants when Nicky brings a box wrapped in silk out of his suitcase and unwraps and opens it. He offers it to Joe first, who pulls out a stick of kohl and moves to a mirror, very lightly beginning to apply the product to his eyelid. Nicky is caught in the gentleness of Joseph's fingers for a moment before he he focuses, dipping into the box and bringing out mascara and a brush. He does his lashes, carefully sharing the one mirror in the room with Joe, and when he's done he blinks a few times to check the application before he turns to Joseph, cleaning the brush off as his love finishes lining his eyes.

Nicolò’s hand gently take Joseph’s face, cradling it as he applies the mascara to his love’s lashes. The kohl is stunning on him. Nicolò wears it on occasion, but finds it irritates his eyes into rubbing them, quickly turning his face into a raccoon's.

On Yusuf, it highlights his already luminescent brown eyes; his hand applying the kohl minimally but expertly.

The mascara and kohl are returned to their container, lying next to the lipstick that looks good on both of them, and Joe wraps everything back up and returns the box to Nicky's valise. They carry only a few items of makeup - a number that can be explained away if necessary and easily replaced if broken or abandoned. The home they keep on the border of Italy and France has a far greater variety of things.

The two of them dress carefully: Nothing that will grab the attention of possible authorities, but pieces that are flattering. Before they leave, they check each other over for creases or stains, letting hands linger for a moment longer than necessary

When their neighbours see them step out of their room, Joseph and Nicolò receive smiles and wishes for a lovely evening. The joy of the interaction carries the two of them out the front door of the boarding house and into the warm evening outside. They link arms on the way to the speakeasy they’re headed to, where the entrance is the side door of a funeral home.

It's humid and smokey when they get inside, the place jumping despite the earlier hour. The dance floor is packed, and in the first few minutes as they make their way to the bar, Joseph can tell the singer and band are top-notch.

As soon as they get their drinks, they go on a hunt for a table they can sit at, promising each other a dance as soon as they're finished with the first round. 

*

It’s hours later and Joseph and Nicky have been on and off the dance floor multiple times, shimmying, fox trotting, and lindy hopping, losing their jackets two songs in and hands splayed across each other's backs. In between they'd chatted with a number of people and had a fair share of drinks they'd both purchased and been offered. They've managed to keep their original table by virtue of leaving their jackets there and hoping for the best. The man at the table next to them, an artist, immediately sparks up a conversation with them when they sit down again. They make note of the paint that likely never quite washes off his hands, and the smudge of charcoal under his ear that he'd missed on his way out tonight. Joe thinks that the artist is likely somewhat successful, as he doesn’t have the gaunt look of a man whose meals come infrequently.

The conversation flows, and between that and the drinks they've had, when the artist asks: “Would you two be willing to pose for me?" Joe and Nicky are happy enough to work out terms.

The artist lays out his plan, ending it with: "I don’t have a lot of dough, but I’ve got a good bottle of bourbon and plenty of cigarettes if you’re willing?”

Tonight?

“I think the light would be good for what I’m looking to do, but I don’t want to ruin your evening.”

For us, this is an extension of our evening.

They follow the artist back to his one room apartment, a double-bed taking up most of the space that isn't consumed by various art supplies.

"The shared bathroom's down the hall to your right. If you could leave your makeup on that'd be swell."

When they arrive back in the room after fighting the hot water in the bathroom, Nicky and Joe strip down to their skin, folding what needs to be folded and then climbing into the bed.

The lighting the artist has managed to jury rig is bright enough to see their faces but soft enough to blur details to a certain degree. It's Joe who draws a sheet over their hips before holding out his hand for the cigarette, lighter, and ash tray being passed to them.

The artist then goes into the drawer of the tiny dressing table tucked in the corner of the room. The table is straining with the weight of brushes and paints, but the drawer slides out easily and the man pulls out a tube of lipstick, moving back to the bed and passing it to Nicky. With no mirror, Nicky hands it to Joe to apply. It won’t matter in a minute who's wearing it or what it looks like, but for now, Joe's careful fingers, the artist's hands Nicky loves so much, drag red across his lips. 

A passionate kiss had been requested after applying the lipstick, and Nicky and Joe are more than happy to provide. They kiss for long minutes, parting occasionally to smile at one another, and then drawing together again. By the time they finish, it's impossible to tell who wore the lipstick first. On Joe, who'd shaved as soon as trends started changing, the product has made its way onto his cheeks.

Nicky wishes he could smile at the way the colour is smeared, likely mirrored on his own face, but instead his heart is thudding away in his rib cage. His are eyes caught by a spot of colour high on Yusuf's cheek where Nicky'd touched the corner of his love's lip and then brushed his thumb below Yusuf's eye.

The artist is satisfied and takes the tube back before he begins to flit around them, making adjustments to their poses, tying a silk scarf to Nicky’s wrist, weaving an ornate comb into Joseph’s curls. He draws the sheet up a little bit more, so it sits below their ribs, before he goes back to his easel and gestures at them to light the cigarette.

It’s Joe who picks it up, placing it between his lips and leaning forward, Nicky already holding out the flame of the lighter. As soon as Nicky puts the lighter down, they begin to hear the frantic scratching of the pencil across the artist's canvas.

Joe thinks about how the light that the man’s using to see his canvas will change the light in the finished piece.

Their artist companion works quickly, but carefully, tells them to move positions a couple of times, but easily gets the piece sketched out in short order. He asks if they mind if he gets the first layer of colour down, and they shrug and say that it’s no problem. The two of them watch as he moves to open the window first, letting out cigarette smoke and the smell of oil paint.

The night goes on, and Nicky watches as Joe’s eyes grow heavy. The cigarette burns down, but it’s replaced.

They talk quietly, Nicolò’s head balanced on his hand, his elbow dug into the pillow on the bed. Joe’s head cushioned on his own arm.

Joe's gaze falls to the colour on Nicky's lips, the matching the ring of it around the cigarette, the knowledge of the hue on his own lips, unseen without a mirror. His eyes drift up to Nicky's, who's watching him back.

The second cigarette burns down. If they would like another, the artist says, they're welcome to it. If not, don't sweat it, he's got what he needs. 

Joseph stamps out the cigarette in the ash tray before he reaches down between them and grabs Nicolò’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and leaving a lipstick mark that clashes with the colour of the scarf tied around his soul's wrist.

They hear a small noise of annoyance, and both men look towards the artist. He seems to jump backwards for a moment but recovers and tells them not to change their pose as he desperately mixes colours together. 

When the artist has enough paint put down that the colours have been captured to his satisfaction, he tells them they can move. His hand waves to the dressing table, telling them to put their two accessories down wherever they can find space. He then goes to find a pair of handkerchiefs so they can wipe their faces, and Joe takes a moment to look at the work he’s done so far. When he leans over to get a closer look, he feels Nicky's hand land on the small of his back.

It’s lovely, the painting, certainly a wonderful piece that will likely stop just short of Realism. The only thing that doesn’t quite fit the style is the brightness of their eyes as they look towards the viewer.

The artist bustles back in from the washroom and passes them both damp cloths that they carefully begin to remove their make-up with. They’ll have to clean up properly in their apartment when they get back there, but for now Nicky leaves the kiss mark on the back of his hand untouched.

“What do you think?”

It’s very well done, they tell him. They talk about things they like about the painting, the lighting, the pose. Joe comments on how much he likes the red the artist had chosen for the lipstick.

“I’ve got a bunch of lipstick, but I thought this one would suit you both the best. Can you come back for a second sitting? It’s not strictly necessary but,” the artist shrugs.

They tell him that they’ll be here for three days, but that they won’t have the time to, unfortunately. They’ll be on a train to California after that.

Their companion is disappointed, but understands, wishing them well as he hands them a very nice bottle of bourbon.

*

Nile’s smiling as she looks at Joe and Nicky muttering over something they’re seeing on Joe’s phone. The small museum they're in isn't on the list of must sees, but the collection is well put together, all objects and paintings having to do with the history of Greenwich Village.

She’s looking around the room as Nicky and Joe continue to discuss something, letting her gaze drift over various pieces before she notices a painting that makes her stop.

It’s clearly Joe and Nicky, the eyes are unmistakable, drawing the viewer’s attention immediately; bright despite the soft lighting of the rest of the painting. 

The two men currently having a dispute over something are, in the painting, lying on a bed, Joe’s arm underneath his head and Nicky’s head balanced on his hand. Nicky is in the middle of passing Joe a cigarette but seems to have been interrupted by the viewer.

They’re wearing make-up, but it’s clear that it hadn’t just been put on. Nicky and Joe both have halos of black around their eyes, Joe's worse than Nicky's. Their mouths are smeared with lipstick, the colour is the same on both of them and the implication is clear, emphasized by the kiss mark on the back of Nicky’s hand. The mess of their mouths should be comical, but it's anything but. Her eye catches on a small splotch of colour high up on Joe's cheek.

It’s a wonderful painting, done in oils - the artist clearly skilled. Nile is a little surprised to find a painting of this quality in a small museum like this one. She can’t make out all the details from this far away, but she can see enough of it to get an idea. She gets her phone out, smiling when she sees that she can get a photo of Nicky and Joe with the painting in the background. Copley won’t be happy, neither will Andy, but it’s too good an opportunity. 

It’s as she’s going to take the picture that Joe picks up a phone call. His left hand going up behind his head so that he can continue to hold Nicky’s belt loop.

Nicky's holding up his own phone between them so Joe can see it, and when his hand goes to scratch his temple, she clears her throat, their eyes snapping to her just as she takes the photo. 

It’s probably not a once in a lifetime shot, but there’s something so good about how well they’ve mirrored the painting, one hundred years after it was done.

She wonders if they’ve even noticed the piece. Maybe not, given that Andy had sent a text just before they’d come into this room. Joe finishes up on the call, and they both look at Nile. 

“We’ve got to go,” Nile nods, quickly following the two of them out of the room. 

*

She returns two days later, happy that they didn’t have to bug out as soon as they’d finished up the small mission. It means she can take her time looking at the painting again.

 _Two lovers share a cigarette_ it says on the small plaque below the frame. 

It should feel voyeuristic, but the look that both subjects of the painting are giving makes it feel like she's being watched more than watching. She wonders what the artist did to deserve such a look and feels glad she's never had it directed at her.

“My uncle’s painting,” Nile jumps. Andy would be so unimpressed to see her so unaware of her surroundings.

“Pardon?”

The older man standing next to her, in his late 70s, smiles as he looks up at the painting.

“My uncle painted this,” he looks up at Nile. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, not at all. I really like it.”

The old man smiles. “So did he. Did pretty well for himself as an artist but could never get himself to sell this one. Said there was something about it that drew him in.”

Nile laughs. “I can see why. I don’t know if I like it for the same reasons, but it’s a wonderful painting.”

“When we were little he used to tell us the story of how he met the two men. Cut out the drinking and the cigarettes but talked about the bar. How he’d been looking for subjects for weeks on end but hadn’t found anyone when all of a sudden, he gets into a conversation with a couple sitting next to him. Complete serendipity – he hadn’t planned on going out that night. Said they were the perfect models up until one of them moved and put a big kiss mark on a hand that my uncle had already mostly finished painting. Ended up looking better than the scarf he'd had on the wrist of the same arm. You can't see it from here but he ended up painting over the scarf that was originally there.” 

Niles grin is hurting her cheeks. “How annoying for him.”

“He said he made a noise, and suddenly these two were looking at him, and he felt like he was looking into the eyes of men who knew the world was in each other and he had interrupted them discussing it.” The old man smiles.

Nile looks back at the painting. “Given the light, I was amazed at how luminous the eyes are.”

“Uncle said that they probably didn’t look like that, but it felt like it, when they looked at him.”

Niles takes a moment. “You don’t happen to have a poster of this by any chance?”

The older man frowns. “No," he adjusts his weight. "But I’m sure my grandson would be happy to figure out how to create one if you wanted. He’s good with stuff like that,”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to volunteer him like that,” Nile is reminded of being the IT person for her family. 

“No, he’s in art school. I’m sure he can do it,”

“How about I give you my email. Let me know costs and we can go from there? It’s going to be a gift for people I know, and I think they’d really like it,” Nile does ask herself how far she’s willing to go to surprise Nicky and Joe, but apparently the answer is pretty far. Besides, she's pretty sure they’ll like it.

The man grins at her, and they shake on it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about New York City or oil painting, and barely more than that about the 1920s. It's been a while since I've used French as well so truly this fic is a venn diagram circle of I don't know what I'm doing. Sometimes you just want to write about an outside character painting your fave 900 year old couple, ya know?
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr @centurydependent.


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